The Burden of Being a RavenPuff
by DreamingOfStarlight
Summary: One-Shots about life as a member of the two forgotten houses. Please excuse the absolutely horrible title.
1. Founders

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters and subsequent awesomeness are property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. **

_Chapter One: Founders_

Helga Hufflepuff knocked on the wooden door. She had lines on her face which had not been there this time last year, and her coppery hair was streaked with grey. Rowena had offered countless times to charm her into a younger-looking woman, as she did for herself often. Helga was not vain, however; weary and dejected perhaps, but never vain.

"Oh, do come in. You need never knock, my dear," Rowena's high, musical voice called.

The dark-haired witch sat in relative darkness, surrounded by faded manuscripts. The candles flickered feebly, barely casting any light. Rowena seemed not to notice however, remaining bent over the vellum pages.

"Rowena?"

"Hmm? Oh, of course. Helga. I am so sorry, as of late I seem to be so . . ." Her voice trailed off into nothing. She glanced up, her dark eyes ringed with uncharacteristic lines. "I grow so weary, my dear Helga. Each day it seems, our hopes slip ever further from us. . . . I do believe Salazar shall truly depart this time."

"Godric failed to persuade him then?"

"As always. He never was able to hold his own against him. They are too close for their own good. For _Godric's_ own good, I should say. Salazar on the other hand . . . he has outgrown us, outgrown this. He means to outlive us as well, I should think."

Helga placed her hand on her friend's shoulder. "And how fare you with this? I know that you and Salazar were—"

"So long ago, my dear. He is not the same man as he once was. Nor is Godric. They have grown so . . . big. Their names and legends precede them, wherever they go, and so many realms where they never have gone. All over Britain, and indeed, Ireland as well, they speak of them: Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin, the greatest wizards since the days of Merlin." Her voice was hard and bitter.

"Surely they say the same of us . . ."

"One would imagine so. And yet . . . I spoke with a wizard, in an inn, who knew not that Hogwarts held more than Salazar and Godric. He wondered how the school would fare, with only Godric to keep it in order, should Salazar depart." She gazed wistfully out the window, at the land she had enchanted, the students laughing in the sunshine.

"He is but one man, one very foolish man," Helga asserted, as much for her own sake as Rowena's.

"Is he though? Will there come a day when the legend of Hogwarts is one of friendship and betrayal, between the two greatest wizards of the age? Shall there come a time when Godric and Salazar's feud is legendary, with our names but a whisper in the wind? Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw, the great, forgotten witches," she laughed hollowly, the sound ringing in the silence.

"That is quite enough. My friend, my dear, dear friend you are weary. You have not slept, I can see. Go lie down and speak this madness not. All shall be well when you wake,"

Rowena looked about to reply, but the words would not come to her tongue. _And all the better for it. _Helga thought, as Rowena wandered off to her bedchamber.

The warm smile she had worn slipped away and a sigh escaped her lips.

_Rowena shall be remembered, I doubt that not. Myself, however . . . _ But Helga sighed, and smiled, and bustled down to the kitchens all the same. _What should I care for remembrance? What is remembrance, when there is supper to cook and children to teach? _

"If Rowena only thought the same," She whispered under her breath, knowing it would never be so.


	2. Quidditch

_Chapter Two: Quidditch_

Cho Chang sprinted down to the Quidditch pitch, her dark eyes bright with expectation. The air around her seemed whirring with energy, the stands an endless sea of blue and yellow. She had Marietta Edgecombe's hand in her own, and was dragging the blonde witch behind her.

"Come on!" she urged the other girl as they made their way up the stands. "We have to get a good seat!" Marietta smiled half-heartedly, her reluctance evident, but sped up nonetheless. Cho was impossible when it came to Quidditch. At the first match of the season, between Gryffindor and Slytherin, she had been completely lost in the thrall and thrill of the sport. Now that her own house was playing, Marietta could only imagine the fixation brimming behind her friend's eyes.

The two first years claimed a pair of empty seats towards the top of the stands. "We're going to win, I just know we are!" Cho said, half to herself. Memories of the previous match swam to the forefront of her mind: the bombastic roar of "_Go Go Gryffindor, Go Go Gryffindor!"_ and the determined eyes of the Slytherin supporters, carefully following each toss of the Quaffle. The deafening cheers of the victorious Slytherins still rang in her ears. _Only this time it will be _us_ who get to cheer_.

The match began with a clamor, as each Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff leant forward in their seats. The players moved swifter than shadow, their eyes alive with the thrill of the game. The teams were perfectly matched, weaving deftly between one another like birds. Cho watched, mystified, as the Chasers soared through the air in their quest for the Quaffle.

"_It looks like they're dancing_," whispered Marietta, unexpectedly enthralled. Cho smiled, and glanced around at the rest of the stadium. Surely everyone had to be as enchanted as they were. The Hufflepuffs and other Ravenclaws were gazing starry-eyed at the events of the match, and yet . . .

On the other side of the stands, gaggles of Gryffindors sat giggling to one another, half-glancing at the match every now and then. Hordes of Slytherins stared into the distance, their eyes glazed over in boredom. Even some professors —former Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs excluded— chatted quietly amongst themselves, scarcely glancing at the match before them.

Cho leaned forward and tapped on the shoulder of a curly-haired third-year. The girl, whose name Cho believed to be Penelope, turned around. "Yes?" she asked, trying not to show her annoyance.

"Why aren't they watching? The Slytherins and Gryffindors? And the staff? This is ten times more exciting than their game earlier this month, and they were all _awestruck _then."

Penelope gave a sad smile. "You're Cho right?" The younger witch nodded. "Gryffindors and Slytherins tend to be—"

"Complete arses every now and then," said the boy seated next to her.

"Roger!" Penelope chided.

He rolled his eyes "You know it's true. They think they're the only ones who matter. Which I wouldn't mind if everyone didn't act like it was true. When _I'm_ on the team— which I will, next year— they're going to regret being so pompous."

The blonde boy sitting next to him sniggered, "You're one to talk about pompous, Davies."

"_Regardless_, they think they own the world. And I for one am not a fan of it." Roger retorted, shoving his companion playfully.

A pink flush crept into Penelope's cheeks. "They're not _all_ bad."

Marietta grabbed Cho's shoulder, pointing towards the Ravenclaw Keeper with her other hand. "Did you guys see that? She blocked a goal, _and_ dodged a Bludger. She was practically upside down. _So_ amazing."

The group turned their attention back to the match, watching each swoop and feint with entranced expressions.

"Well, it's their loss," Cho muttered to herself, keeping her eyes fixed on the graceful swerves of the competitors.

_When _I'm_ on the team, they won't dare ignore me,_ she thought, and smiled as the two Seekers dove towards a glint of gold in the air; the stands around her erupted in vociferous cheering.

Ravenclaw had caught the Snitch.


	3. Brave For a Hufflepuff

**A/N: I own nothing. All characters and subsequent awesomeness are property of the brilliant J.K. Rowling.**

Nymphadora Tonks wandered down the hallway, trying to appear nonchalant. Sooner or later someone would discover the cupcakes missing from the kitchen, but in her defense she was _hungry_, and it wasn't as though she could learn on an empty stomach, right?

The shouts carried down the mostly deserted corridor: a young boy's calls of "stop it!" and the deep, raucous laughter that followed.

Tonks ran towards them, her hair a violent shade of red. "Leave him alone."

There were three seventh year boys, two Gryffindors and a Slytherin, crowding around a scrawny first year. They had stolen his red-and-gold tie and schoolbooks, enchanting them to fly about the hallway.

The older boys turned towards her, sizing her up. "That's cute," the tallest of them said. He had a nasal voice and massive arms. "Run along, now." He flashed her a sickly smile, as though she were a child.

Tonks narrowed her eyes, which were now a brighter red than her hair. She whipped out her wand, jabbing it at the large boy's throat. "Let him be, or you won't be able to speak for a month. And then wouldn't you be so bored? It would be _so_ much harder to talk down to people, wouldn't it?"

The boy glanced at her scarlet eyes, and recoiled. "Whatever," he said. "Come on, guys. This freak isn't worth our time." One of his cronies lowered his wand, and the First Year's things came plummeting to the ground.

"Thank you so much!" the boy said, shaking slightly, once his tormentors were out of sight.

Another boy appeared, a Ravenclaw, from his crouched hiding spot behind a faded tapestry. "That was so brave of you. Really, really brave for a Hufflepuff." They smiled with admiration and relief.

Nymphadora scowled. "Brave for a Hufflepuff? Thanks for the validation." She turned on her heel and stalked away, for once not stumbling.

_Brave for a Hufflepuff. Please. What a condescending little brat _she thought angrily. Tonks was proud of her house. They didn't need to be flashy or pompous, like all of the rest. They cared about things that actually _mattered_. What good were high marks or power or glory? What use was any of it, if you were arrogant or bullying or disloyal?

"_Ugh,_" she fumed as she climbed through the barrel by the kitchens into the sunlight-filled common room.

"You alright?" Vesta Greyheart inquired, glancing up from her textbook.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just gonna go lie down."

Tonks collapsed onto her bed, picking up a Transfiguration textbook. She had been ignoring her studying lately, and the O.W.L.s were only a few months away.

"'_Brave for a Hufflepuff_,'" she mumbled. "Please. Those prats don't know what the bloody hell they're talking about."


End file.
